Homecoming
by Jael K
Summary: He thought he left one good thing back in Central City ... but life has a way of changing plans, even the ones made with good intentions. Especially those. Fortunately, someone has his back. Sort of the follow-up to "All Through the Night."
I own neither the show nor the characters. I just like to mess with them.

You can read about the "near-miss with death" experience mentioned in "All Through the Night" here.

#####

Home.

Well, sort of home.

It's not Star City, but at least it's 2016, albeit a handful of months later. And if she doesn't have a chance to visit Laurel and Oliver and the others, at least there's a few evening hours to get off the ship, to not worry about screwing up the timeline for once, and to finally pay a well-deserved "thank you" to a friend of friends.

"So, can anyone arrange an introduction to one Cisco Ramon?"

As it turns out, they all can. And they all want to. Except for Hunter, who has merely parked the ship here due to popular demand (what he calls "whining") while he plots out whatever complicated scenario he's going to throw them at next - and who is now hiding in his office. And except for Snart, who has done nothing but glare at his phone since they landed.

She hesitates before strolling over. He's wearing the "I'm just here to steal things" opaque expression she's come to recognize is really just Leonard Snart with all his masks all the way on ... and she's not talking about the goggles. But they're here, in part, because she made Hunter promise they'd take a Central City pit stop as soon as possible after Snart's own near-miss with death only a handful of weeks ago, and she figures that gives her at least the right to extend an invitation ... and to find out what's going on to cause that particularly pissed-off, blue-eyed glare.

"What'd that phone do to you?"

The glare transfers to her, but ... does she dare call it "softens?" ... a moment later. They don't lock eyes for more than that moment, though. He's been cautious of that since the medbay.

"Just trying to reach my sister," he says tersely, pocketing the phone. "Call's not going through. I'll just have to show up."

She nearly asks if he wants company, other plans be damned, but decides in a heartbeat that it's still too personal for whatever fragile ... friendship? ... they have started. "Well, if you have time later, most of us are heading over to Star Labs. Thought you might ... enjoy ... showing up on the side of angels for once." She glance around the motley crew on the Waverider. "If that's what we are."

Whatever's distracting him, that counteracts it for a moment, and the smirk as he looks at her is so pure downright evil ... in the best way ... that she smirks right along with him, both mutually imagining the discomfiture of the "angels" when the crooks and assassins show up to play.

"Maybe later," he concedes. "I want to see how Lisa is doing. I ... tried to leave matters in place so she could ... do something better with her life. I nee ... want ... to see how that's going."

And then he closes up again, but she's seen the concern on the other side of the mask and that will do for now. She gives him a nod, letting him see that she understands, but can't resist: "You know where to find me. Just in case."

"I do. Have fun, assassin."

"Take care, crook."

##

Part of the reason he'd left ... and hauled Mick with him ... was because of Lisa.

She deserves better, his little sister. She always has. But her big brother has always been a crook, albeit the best one he can possibly manage to be ... and she, well, she just fell in with him. What else would she do? He's pretty much raised her; he's the most decent role model she has, scary thought though that might be.

So when Hunter made his offer, he starting thinking. Not about heists throughout history ... or not _just_ about that ... but about second chances. Not necessarily for him ("you think you're some kind of _hero_ ," a voice snarls in memory, and he flinches), but for her.

He moved fast; he'd had this partially planned for a long time – although time travel had never factored into it before. By the time he arrived at the Waverider with the rest the next day, he'd left a packet tucked in a safe place for Lisa: An absolutely pristine new identity (something that is emphatically not cheap or easy in this day and age, but he's willing to spend the cash and he knows who to turn to), the contract (paid up for a year) for a decent apartment near the community college, a new phone, and, well, quite a lot of money. Full tuition, and enough that she really shouldn't have to work while she studies. He threw in all the literature he grabbed from the college, too. (He's a big brother, after all.) He couldn't enroll her himself, but he could do that much.

Maybe she'll study art or film; she's always liked that. Maybe something more science-y. That's what he would have done himself, had he the chance. He didn't, and that time has long since passed.

She does.

She used to beg him to take her on jobs; Mick was always highly amused by that. ( _God, Mick, what are you doing now?_ ) They were a pair of crooks. She just fell into it. Now she can do something more.

He's looking forward to finding out; but he's nervous, too.

She must have changed her number; that's natural enough. She might not be happy with him for taking off, but that's been the way of it; sometimes he has to fly, sometimes it's fast and alone. And she might not be happy with him for trying to change her life, but this is a way for something _**more**_. She'll see that.

Won't she?

The respectable, paid-for apartment is empty. And someone else's name is on the mailbox.

He stares at it, the first tendrils of fear starting to uncurl in his belly.

And then he heads for Star Labs.

##

Laurel was right. Cisco Ramon ... and the entire Star Labs crew .. is awesome.

It's like old home days, now, even though she's just met them today. Someone's gone out for a few six-packs, and someone's ordered pizza. She's thanked Cisco for her White Canary suit ... and posed for about five selfies, although he seems disappointed she doesn't need a nickname ... and formally been introduced to the actual Flash, Barry Allen, who she privately thinks looks like he's 12 no matter how much Oliver respects him.

Stein is here at the moment, though he's heading out for a much-needed dinner date with his wife, and Jax is bantering with them before they drop him off at his mom's place for a bit.

They can't talk, much, about what they've been doing. But it's good to see friends and family, even if they're just the sort you've only met today. She takes a swig of her beer, and smiles at the sight of Ray and Cisco earnestly discussing something gadget-y while Kendra and ... is it Caitlin Snow? ... have their heads bent together about something else. These are good people.

She likes them. She just doesn't quite fit in with them.

Barry asks, not long after they arrive, about Snart, and she likes that, likes that someone else is concerned about the human being under the mask. He seems pleased that his ... nemesis? really, Cisco? ... is a valued part of the team, even.

She tells him about Mick Rory. He frowns, then shakes his head, and that's all she can get out of him about that.

Now, there's an older man here, too, introduced as Joe, Barry's father in all but name, and his daughter, Iris, a journalist who seems to be an accepted member of Team Flash. Joe West reminds her of her father, in his own way, and she's quietly reminiscing when she hears the first faint footstep in the hallway.

Ah, yes. The man enjoys making an entrance. Her lips curve at the thought, and she turns to better appreciate the scene.

It doesn't quite turn out that way.

The moment anyone else registers his step and the first drawled, "Al ...," West turns and draws on him as the rest of Team Flash jumps out of their respective seats.

Sara reacts first.

She's whirled and kicked the gun out of his hand before she so much as thinks about it, acting on the adrenaline that courses through her at the sight of a weapon pointed at a teammate.

She's the first to react, but she's not alone. The others ... the other "Legends" ... have also reacted, in varying degrees of diving for the gun and yelling for him to stop. Not of them have gotten any further before the gun is skittering across the floor.

Across the room, he's just watching them. This is Leonard Snart in full, icy armor.

She sees it and it scares her. Not of him. _For him._

##

Barry doesn't use the speed. He doesn't need to. Sara Lance has taken care of it before he has to make that decision.

He'd halfway expected Snart to pull his "keys? I don't need no stinkin' keys" routine. It's not the first, or even second, time, really, but he failed to take into account the reaction it would get. Strange to think he's used to it.

Snart is looking at Lance, and for just a second, there's a flicker in the façade. Then it's gone and the ice-blue eyes snap to the three core members of Team Flash.

"Do any of you have any idea where my sister is?"

The tone isn't accusatory, but weary. They all demur, but that only gets them an exasperated snort.

"Do you seriously expect me to believe you don't have a way of tracking her? Say, her bike?"

He looks pointedly at Cisco. Cisco glances uneasily from side to side and then, with a sigh, punches something into the computer. In seconds, he's scribbling something on a piece of paper, flinching only a little when Snart crosses the room to take it.

He goes still ... stiller ... when he looks at it, then shakes it off, tossing a "thanks" over his shoulder as he heads for the door.

Sara Lance is watching him, eyes narrowed. "You need help?

Her question is immediately met by the rest of the ... is it really a team? ... chiming in immediately, with offers of assistance and backup. But the only response from Snart is a wave of one hand on the way out the door.

They all uneasily settle back to the beer and pizza. (Lance offers Joe's gun back to him with a quiet apology, which he more or less accepts.) But they're all unsettled, especially Lance. It's not long before she, too, crosses to Cisco and requests he give her the address.

And, with a murmur under her breath that sounds something like "idiot doesn't think he needs backup," she disappears out the door.

Barry thinks about following.

And he thinks about two prickly people, neither of whom seem particularly inclined to accept help and both of whom are completely capable of kicking ass.

Instead, he just tells Cisco to keep an ear on the police scanner. He's ready if he needs to be.

##

He knows it's trouble as soon as he sees the address.

This isn't a college lecture hall, or an apartment. It's an old warehouse. It's precisely the kind of place he and Mick used to take over for their own purposes when planning a job.

He is trying too hard not to think about that.

The door is locked. It's not like that's a problem. He leaves it cracked, in case a hasty retreat is needed, although he's trying not to think about that either.

He didn't bring the gun. He _always_ brings the gun. But he left the ship without it, resolutely expecting to see his sister happy and **normal** and, stubbornly, he's still clinging to that.

He ghosts through the door and down the hall; he can move quite quietly when he wants to. As witness startling the hell out of Team Flash again. He almost smiles.

Somewhere, he can admit the Waverider team's defense of him warms him. He doesn't want to think about that, either.

Seems he's been doing a lot of not-thinking lately.

There are voices ahead, and light. He slows his pace, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and saunters into the room like he was meant to be there.

It's definitely a job in the works. He can see the blueprints and the plans, the tools and the weapons. The crew's a bit younger than the people he's worked with, far too green. They turn or rise as he strolls through, their eyes narrowed and their expressions angry.

He's not really looking. His sister sits at the far end of the room.

She's definitely the mastermind here, but he's expected that since he realized what was going on. He keeps up the mask, the studied nonchalance, until he gets to the table behind which she sits. It's spread with more plans and she leans over it with her eyes narrowed, watching him. She looks exactly the same.

He takes a pained breath and lets some of it out. "Lisa. What. The. _**Hell**_."

"Hello, big brother." Her tone is cool. "Fancy seeing you here. No one had any idea where or when this job you'd gone chasing was going down, so I eventually just put something together for myself."

"I left ..."

"You left enough cash ... although some of it was tied up and I had to figure out a way to liquidate it ... for me to get this place and start the ball rolling on this plan. And I appreciate that." Her tone is teasing for a few moments, then hardens again. "We really don't need anyone else on this job; I have it under control. So I really ask is that you stay out the way."

The breath has left his lungs; all along he's been thinking he left this one little good thing behind him in 2016, a way to make the future a better place for one person anyway, even if they don't defeat Savage. And he's been a fool, all along.

They stare at each other across the table.

"I left you a future," he finally manages.

Her eyes snap and he can tell she's furious with him. "A future! What kind of a future? This _is_ what I want! This is what I'm good at. All I wanted was to be considered a fair partner in it, and instead you took off and left me with some ... silly dream ... that was yours, not mine." She's on her feet now, glaring at him. "What the hell am I going to do with college, Lenny? Sit in class, date some loser, get a good little desk job like a good little girl? Do you know how _boring_ that would be?

"I've been a good student; I've always paid attention. I'm ready to pull this off and you can go back to whatever stupid quest you're on. You let the Flash and his whole 'be a hero' thing get under your skin; some of us are more practical than that."

"He knows the Flash?" The kid on her right is on his feet, and surprise, surprise, he's got a gun. The others mutter amongst themselves and he catches a few glints of silver from the corner of his eye as they rise and begin to gather.

He could die here, he thinks, bemused. He's that far outnumbered. Survive the stabbing a few weeks back only to be shot, or beaten to death, here in this warehouse. He doesn't _think_ Lisa will let them go that far.

But he's not sure. She's still sitting there at the table, and her eyes are cold, so cold.

He's holding himself stock-still, calculating if he can get the gun from the kid before one of the others does damage in some other way, when he suddenly feels a shoulder shoved into his own left shoulder, and hears a voice murmur by his ear:

"Got your back. How do you want to play this?

Relief is too mild a word.

"Don't hurt them if you can help it. Just ... get out."

He feels rather than sees Sara nod, hears her breathe, "One, two ..."

And then they're both moving. She's a whirl of staff and limbs and he's throwing punches, and the kid's gun goes flying. It's not the only gun, but no one gets off so much as a shot as they charge for the hallway and then the door, back out into the air and running, running, running ...

It's apparent fairly soon that there's no pursuit and there probably isn't going to be. Their full-out run turns into a jog, then a fast walk, by the time they're a few blocks away.

He keeps going, shoulder hunched as if against a blow, just keeps moving. She keeps pace. She knows what it is to feel you have to outrun demons, even when those demons are people you actually love. And if he stops, he might have to look at her, to see the sympathy on her face.

Eventually, he starts talking. He tells her, without stopping, without looking at her, what he left here when he got on the Waverider. A chance for his little sister to have a better life, and what she actually did with it. The way he's tried to protect that same little sister since she was born, how he'd practically raised her. The same sister who'd just sat there this evening, anger in her eyes, and watched her ... team ... converge on him with violence on their minds.

By the time he finally slows to a stop, they've walked for miles, from the seedy part of town where the warehouse was located to city center and its businesses and parks. They're walking through one of those parks when he stops.

And drives his right fist into a nearby oak tree so hard that the whole thing shakes.

And that's the only anger ... or hurt ...he'll ever show about the whole matter.

He's just staring at his hand, at the bloodied knuckles and bruised flesh, and she has a flash of insight that he's seeing his father's hand. Gently, she takes it, wraps it in hers, ignoring the blood. That seems to be a thing, with them.

"Come on."

##

Leonard Snart is sitting in Star Labs, drinking a beer.

Team Flash is having some problems with this. Team Legends ... Cisco, rattled, has not come up with a snappier name yet ... seems surprised, but pleased. Granted, Snart has barely made a sound since he arrived, nor really looked anyone but Sara Lance in the eye, but he's present.

Lance begged first aid supplies when they first arrived, and Snart now sports a white gauze bandage on his right hand. No one's asked. The Waverider crew includes him in their stories and jokes, doesn't seem to mind when they're met with just a raised eyebrow.

It was Barry, actually, who retrieved a beer from the fridge and extended it to the other man. Snart's return expression was opaque, but he accepted with a nod, and now Leonard Snart, master thief, is sitting in Star Labs, drinking a beer.

Life is strange.

He stays only for that one beer, though, before rising and crossing the floor to Barry, extending the empty and taking a breath.

"My sister. She's planning something. A heist, Central City Museum, I think." He finally meets Barry's eyes. "Please don't let her hurt anyone."

There's truth there, raw and poignant, and he thinks about the man who killed his father because the older man broke his sister's heart.

"I won't. I promise."

One nod. And the mask goes back up. He looks back over his shoulder once, nods to Cisco and Caitlin ... which catches them both by immense surprise ... and then he's gone.

Sara, eyes sad, watches him go and Barry halfway expects her to follow again.

She doesn't, not immediately. But it doesn't take long before it happens anyway.

First, actually, it's Jax, who stretches and claims he's sick of sitting around while the rest of them have beers. Sterin immediately declares it's time (acting like he thought of it first) and escorts Clarissa out so they can have a moment or two before the "kids" leave. Ray and Kendra stand, and Kendra heads over to give them all big hugs.

They filter out, back to the chase, back to the things they can't completely talk about, back to the partner in ... crime? ... who'd skulked out of the lab with pride and pain gathered around him like a cloak. Because, after all, saint or sinner, he's one of theirs.

They're a team. And a team closes ranks when one of its members is hurt, whether it's physically or otherwise. That's what he's seeing here.

Sara Lance is the last to go. She eyes him for a moment, and he realizes he's wearing a smile that he hastily wipes off his face. Whatever she is to Snart, or vice versa ... and isn't that an odd thing to think about? he is _**not**_ going to be the one to tell Oliver ... he doesn't wish to appear to show glee at the man's pain.

She seems to get it, and gives him a little half-smile before departing herself. He watches her go. All is silence, for a moment, in Star Labs.

"Well ... that was interesting."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's note: The Lisa "Golden Glider" Snart of comic canon has taken over the Rogues a time or two. And she can be scarier, and with fewer scruples, than her brother.

I call this a CaptainCanary piece, but it's really just starting to put the pieces together ... I need to think about part three ...

The short piece "Action Hero" was written to follow this story, but this one got far too angst-y too fast when I realized what was going to go down for it to really fit.

For JC, who told me about punching a tree, many years ago.


End file.
